


Distracting Mr Stark

by StarkMan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Iron Dad, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Tony Stark Needs a Hug, iron dad & spider son, spider son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 01:37:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16630421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarkMan/pseuds/StarkMan
Summary: Mr Stark needs a little distracting from his thoughts after what went down in Siberia. Peter is more than happy to oblige. I mean, who wouldn't love time spent with Tony Stark? Short little one-shot.





	Distracting Mr Stark

       “Come here, kid.” Mr Stark said, waving his hand.

Peter put down his soldering iron and made his way across the lab to Mr Stark’s worktable.

       “Hold this for me a sec, I don’t really trust Dum-E with anything potentially flammable.” He said, wrinkling his nose and Peter laughed. Mr Stark pulled his hand out of one of his Iron Man suit legs and handed Peter the repulsor mechanism, wires still attached in a seemingly haphazard fashion.

       “I thought you’d finished with this suit?” Peter asked, watching Mr Stark reach back into the leg.

       “So did I, turns out there’s a little tweaking still to be done with the flight stabilisers as I appear to have filled out a little over the past few weeks,” He paused and withdrew his hand to point at Peter, “muscle, not fat.”

       Peter hid a grin.

       “Sure, Mr Stark.” Mr Stark narrowed his eyes and carried on fixing the suit. “I mean, it has nothing to do with the amount of food we’ve gotten through lately. I do mean it though when I say that May does feed me.” Peter said, looking the man in the eye.

       “Yeah well,” Mr Stark sniffed and looked back down at the suit, “enhanced metabolism and all that shit. You need to eat more, especially if I’m hounding you into helping me out.”

       “I love it here, you know that.” Peter paused, feeling awkward. “Like I don’t mind helping, if you’re sure you don’t mind me being here that is? I don’t want to be in the way.”

       “Hey Pete,” Mr Stark looked up at him again, “I don’t mind you being here. It’s better help than butterfingers and my equipment doesn’t end up covered in foam. Your aunt gets some peace and quiet and you can stick something on your college applications. Win-win.” He shrugged, pulling his hand out of the suit and taking the mechanism from Peter and putting it back into place.

       “Thanks Mr Stark.” Peter said and watched Mr Stark wave a dismissive hand. The past three months had been difficult for the avengers after what had been named ‘The Civil War’. Captain America and almost all the others had left, and Mr Stark had holed himself up in his tower. Peter hadn’t asked for specifics on what went down in Siberia but only had to look at Mr Stark a month ago to know he wasn’t doing great. According to Happy, he had returned looking pretty worse for wear and had thrown himself into suit building. Well, that was cue for Peter to do what he could in helping him out.

       Peter returned to his own bench that Mr Stark had set up across the lab from his and picked up the soldering iron again, going back to his thoughts. Happy had dropped Peter a text message a month ago asking if he was free, and while he was glad to hear from the man, he’d been a little disappointed it hadn’t been Mr Stark himself. Turns out Mr Stark wasn’t up to much of anything that required socialising. Peter turned up one weekend, absolutely feigning confidence as he rode the elevator up to Mr Stark’s living quarters. In his defence, FRIDAY didn’t have to let him in. She also didn’t have to allow him access into the lab and certainly didn’t have to override Mr Stark when he said he wasn’t hungry. Turns out FRIDAY knew an excellent Chinese restaurant not far from the tower who delivered. If Mr Stark put on a little weight due to Peter popping by every few days, then it really wasn’t his fault.

       Peter felt eyes on him but kept his own on his work. The noises coming from Mr Stark’s desk had stopped and he’d bet his set of limited edition Harry Potter novels that Mr Stark had his ‘lost’ face on. The one where if you happened to catch, you’d see his eyes wide and a little crease between his brows, expression open. It gave Peter an awful feeling, like when he’d lie awake at night after Ben died and heard May crying but trying to keep quiet. Too much expression. Too much vulnerability from someone who ought to be unbreakable and unflappable through anything. No, Peter had learnt over the years that even the adults around him hurt just as much as he did. So, for as long as Mr Stark would let him, or FRIDAY he should say, he was going to turn up and make sure the man ate and didn’t get lost in thoughts.

       “Mr Stark, could you give me a hand with this?” There was a moment before the sound of Mr Starks stool was pushed back.

       “Sure Pete, what d’you need?”


End file.
